


tcb: taking care of business

by thunderylee



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Kamenashi Kazuya doesn’tdospontaneity, but sometimes it does him.





	tcb: taking care of business

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for capslock_turtle's kame rare pair exchange 2012.

“Shuuji,” she calls out, and he would know that voice anywhere.

It stops him in his tracks, despite the fact that he’s  _late late late_ , and all obligations fly out of his head as she strides up to him, her long black hair flowing behind her. She’s smiling bright enough to offset the cold, cloudy day, and Kame can’t help but smile back at her.

“I’m used to Yamashita calling me that,” he says, his eyes locked on her face. “How have you been?”

“Great!” Toda Erika replies. “I’m between projects right now, so I’ve been spending a lot of time catching up with friends and family.”

Kame nods like he knows what that’s like. Usually the only time he’s between projects is when commuting from one to the other. “It’s really good to see you again,” is all he says, because it’s true.

“You, too.” Somehow Erika’s grinning even brighter. “Are you busy right now? You probably are, huh? Kamenashi-kun is  _always_  busy.”

“I am,” he says, feeling more apologetic than usual when someone requests a piece of his time. “I just have a couple appointments today, though, then plans this evening -”

“What kind of plans?” Erika asks curiously. “Maybe I could tag along. That is, if I won’t be a bother.”

Kame laughs. “I doubt you want to be around while I clean my apartment. I get pretty crazy.”

“Cleaning on a Friday night?” Erika teases. “How wild.”

Shrugging, Kame rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. “It has to be done. It’s been like two months.”

Erika feigns shock, then laughs at Kame’s narrowed eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, predictable Shuuji. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

She flips out a custom made business card, which Kame is sure is only for her friends and not professional contacts, but he accepts it politely anyway. When he lifts his eyes, she’s waving good-bye and disappearing into the throngs of people, not looking over her shoulder, and Kame wonders what the hell just happened.

He’s almost twenty-six years old, but suddenly he feels like he’s nineteen again.

*

“I heard you ran into Eri-chan today,” Uchi greets him when he gets home.

Kame just rolls his eyes, regretting giving the other man his spare key for the millionth time. “Good news travels fast. Why are you even here?”

“You underestimate the Osakan gossip vine,” Uchi tells him, sprawling all over the couch that Kame immediately rushes to neaten. “Hina had already called me before you even got on the train this afternoon. You seriously turned her down to  _clean_?”

“I haven’t cleaned since before I left for Guam,” he says again, glaring pointedly at Uchi. “See? There’s already a giant bug infesting my couch.”

“She said you’ve gotten cuter,” Uchi says, giving him this knowing grin, and Kame ignores him as he disappears into his bedroom to change into cleaning clothes. “She told Hina she really wants you to call her.”

“I hope I look better than when I was nineteen,” Kame mumbles under his breath. “And isn’t she dating Murakami-kun?”

He jumps when he finds Uchi lingering in the doorway, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Nope, they’re just really good friends. He’s like another older brother to her, so naturally he’s the first one she would call when she runs into the great Kamenashi Kazuya on the street, who leaves her heart all a-flutter.”

Kame pauses with a T-shirt halfway onto his head. “I made her heart flutter? But I wasn’t even doing anything.”

He cringes as Uchi slaps him in the head, a good-natured tsukkomi, and glares as Uchi addresses him like he’s the dumbest person on the planet. “You don’t have to  _do_  anything. Don’t you know how girls work? I don’t even  _like_  them, and I know.”

“Because you are one,” Kame says, and Uchi just shrugs as Kame shoves past him in the doorway. “Make me a bucket of mop water, will you? If you’re going to be here, you’re going to help.”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” Uchi tells him, hot on his heels as they return to the kitchen, where Uchi counter-hops as Kame cleans. “When was the last time you got laid, Kazupon?”

“None of your business,” Kame mutters, scrubbing the stove a little harder than necessary.

Uchi makes a ‘hmm’ noise. “That means it’s been awhile. You should really stop taking your frustration out on your apartment. It doesn’t matter if your place is spotless if nobody comes over, and I don’t count.”

“If I invite her over tomorrow, will you shut up?” Kame barks. “I can get up early to take care of some things in order to have dinner at home, I think. I’ll have to look at my planner.”

“I’ll shut up if you call her right  _now_ ,” Uchi reasons, and Kame narrows his eyes as he reaches for his phone.

“Shuuji!” she answers, and he can’t help but smile at the happiness in her voice while ignoring Uchi’s smug face. “Are you done cleaning already?”

“Not exactly,” he replies, bringing his hand to his forehead at the disappointed sound she makes. “But I can clear my schedule a bit for tomorrow, if you want to come over for dinner. I’ll cook.” He’s already making a mental menu and grocery list before he’s even done talking.

“Ooh, dinner sounds good!” Erika replies, and Kame beams with pride. “I’m busy tomorrow, though. Saturday night with the girls, you know? They’d never let me live it down if I blew them off for a man. Maybe…”

“Maybe?” he prompts her, feeling more hopeful than he should.

“I don’t want to be too presumptuous,” she begins carefully, “but maybe we could do dinner tonight and you could clean tomorrow? Just a suggestion.”

“That’s…” Kame trails off, scrutinizing the unacceptable state of his kitchen. “My place isn’t really ready for company right now. That’s why I have to clean -”

“Oh, I meant over here,” Erika cuts him off. “At my apartment? I don’t live very far from where we ran into each other today. I love to cook, unless you really want to, or we can do it together ~”

Kame blinks. “It’s already eight o’clock. We wouldn’t eat until ten even if we start cooking now, not to mention I’m not presentable and it would take me at least an hour to get there.”

“I can wait,” Erika says simply. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to eat your cooking – Uchi-chan says it’s to  _die_  for.”

“Does he,” Kame deadpans, eyeing the man in question who is making bubbles out of the dish soap. “I guess… okay.”

“Really?!” Erika squeals, and Kame thinks he understands that whole heart fluttering thing now. “I’ll mail you my address and see you in an hour, then. Don’t be late!”

“I won’t,” Kame assures her, then hangs up and grabs Uchi by the collar. “This is all your fault! How am I supposed to get ready so soon? I have to stop by the market, too. I don’t know if she has the right ingredients for pasta, or if she even likes pasta -”

“For being so logical, you’re really dumb sometimes,” Uchi interrupts calmly, and Kame abruptly lets him go, dazed at the declaration. “Bring over your own ingredients. You have enough food here to last through an apocalypse. I’ll gather it up for you while you primp. I’ve watched you cook it enough to know what goes in it. Don’t worry so damn much, it makes you look like an old man.”

Kame shakes his head at him. “You’re really something else.”

“Thanks,” Uchi says with a grin. “Now go take a shower, because you smell.”

He would never say it out loud, but if it wasn’t for Uchi, Kame’s private life would be boring.

*

It’s probably the most un-put together he’s ever been in his life, but here he is on Toda Erika’s front step with a backpack full of food and a ski cap holding down his hair. He looks like he’s ready to rob a bank, but Erika just grins and ushers him inside.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she’s saying. “Please excuse the mess. I wanted to pick up a bit before you got here, but I got into a fight with my hair instead.”

He looks at the black waves cascading down her shoulders. “Your hair looks fine.”

“You’re sweet,” she tells him, giggling a little as she shows him around. It’s a small room, a futon and a Japanese-style table with a kitchen off to the side and a bathroom in the back. Even with less space, it looks much more homey than his own place, numerous trinkets and figurines and pictures _everywhere_. There doesn’t seem to be any actual color scheme in her decor, just a lot of knitted afghans and throw pillows.

“Did you make these?” he asks her, kneeling down to look more closely at the stitches.

“Some of them,” Erika replies. “My younger sister is a lot better at it. It’s something for us to do together.”

“They look really warm,” he comments, lifting his hand to carefully touch one.

Erika beams. “They are. I don’t even need a kotatsu in the winter. Saves on electricity.”

Nodding, Kame winces as he pulls off his ski cap. “Ah, I didn’t have time to do my hair. I think it’s frizzy.”

“It’s cute,” she says, bounding up to him like a puppy and reaching for one of the stray locks. “I like it like this. Makes you look normal.”

He just stares at her, and she looks sheepish as she meets his eyes. “You should know better than to touch a Johnny’s hair,” he jokes.

“I’ve worked with enough of them,” she agrees, continuing to run her fingers through Kame’s unstyled hair. “But you were always my favorite.”

“I thought Koki was your favorite,” Kame says. “He’s everyone’s favorite, anyway.”

“Koki’s fun,” Erika admits, giving him a smile that he can’t exactly decipher. “But you’re cuter.”

He catches his eyes darting down to her lips and clears his throat. “We should probably start cooking if we want to eat by midnight. I brought everything I need to make pasta, unless you had something else in mind.”

“Always prepared,” Erika says, shaking her head as Kame rushes to unload his backpack in the kitchen. “Predictable Shuuji.”

“I haven’t been Shuuji in a long time, Erika-san,” Kame says slowly, eyeing the bottle of wine Uchi had snuck in with the groceries. “Shuuji grew up.”

“Just Erika is fine,” is all she says. “Don’t be so formal when you’re in my kitchen.”

He turns around to reply and only jumps a little when he finds her right behind him. “Then please call me Kazuya.”

“Ka~zu~ya-kun,” she complies, overemphasizing the syllables.

“Just Kazuya.”

Her eyes meet his and it almost knocks him back again, but he keeps his composure as he waits for her response. “Pasta will be delicious if Kazuya makes it. I’ll toss a salad to go with it.”

And just like that, they set off to cook together, staying out of each other’s way and making minimal conversation. Kame loves to cook mostly for the solitude, and he’d have never imagined that Erika was the same way. She only asked him questions about what he was doing, or why he was using a particular spice, like she was observing him in order to learn the recipe herself.

“Kazuya,” she says quietly as they bring the food to the table, and he grunts his acknowledgement. “What do you think Shuuji and Mariko would be doing now, six years after they broke up?”

Kame thinks about this as he pours them both a glass of wine. “I’m not sure. I fear that Shuuji would have ended up a salaryman just like his dad, while Mariko would have probably gone into the restaurant industry or something. There’s really no way to tell, though. People change.”

“Do you think they’d keep in touch?” Erika asks thoughtfully. “Mariko became good friends with Nobuta at the end, after all, and Nobuta was always special to Shuuji and Akira. Or do people who are that close grow apart, too?”

“People can definitely grow apart, no matter how close they were,” Kame says, feeling a little melancholy as he thinks of his own past and his old friends he doesn’t talk to anymore. “But I also think it’s possible to be friends again after enough time has passed. All it takes is a little forgiving on both sides.”

Erika smiles at that, which instantly clears Kame’s mood. “Forgiving?”

“Yeah, Shuuji was awful to Mariko,” Kame explains, pausing to swallow a mouthful of pasta. “Ah, this is  _so_  good. Anyway, I think Shuuji would have to forgive himself, too, for hurting her like that, and – why are you laughing?”

Her eyes sparkling, Erika covers her mouth as her shoulders shake with amusement. “You’re right, you’re not like Shuuji at all. Shuuji wouldn’t praise something he did himself. He’s too insecure.”

“Sorry -” Kame starts, but Erika rushes to shake her head.

“I’m nothing like Mariko, either,” she says. “I would have never spent so long with someone who clearly wasn’t interested in me. I’m much more straightforward than that. And that brat Uchi was right – your pasta really is to die for.”

“Thank you,” Kame replies, his cheeks feeling a little warm. “It was my pleasure to cook for you, although it was a bit sudden.”

“I’m spontaneous like that,” Erika tells him. “And you’re predictable. What a pair we make.”

“I think that’s okay, though,” he says. “Sometimes the two can balance out nicely.”

“Yeah.” Erika gives him a cheeky grin as she takes a sip of her wine. “Next time you can plan something for us to do.”

Kame just nods and focuses on eating, the prospect of seeing her again too much to process right now.

*

“You really don’t have to do this,” Erika says for the third time as Kame washes all of the dishes and wipes down her kitchen.

“It’s the least I can do for imposing on your home,” he insists, carefully fitting a pot on Erika’s dish drainer before turning to flash her a smile. “Well, good night, then.”

“Good night?” Erika repeats, pouting up at him. “But there’s still so much wine left…”

He scoffs at the proposition. “Erika, if I drink anymore, I won’t be able to drive home.”

“So don’t go home.”

“How much have you had?” he asks skeptically, eyeing her flushed face. “Do you even realize what you’re implying?”

“It’s not implying if I’m saying it outright,” Erika says evenly, her eyes heated and sober. “I want you to stay the night with me, Kazuya.”

He swallows. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and the rest is expressed against his lips. He gasps in surprise as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close, arching into him and his hands automatically reach for her hips. She doesn’t waste any time licking her way into his mouth, deepening their kiss that Kame instinctively rushes to keep up with. He holds her tight as he kisses her back, feeling her soft noise of approval on his tongue.

It’s natural how they break apart, Erika’s smile warm against his lips as they both catch their breaths. “That’s why,” she whispers.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, his voice deeper than usual as he mouths his way down her jaw and neck. “It’s not nice to be a tease.”

“I am many things, Kazuya,” she replies, “but a tease is not one of them.”

Then he’s grabbed by his belt and pulled across the room, flung down onto her futon and mounted, a rush of vanilla clogging his senses as Erika’s hair falls over either side of her face. He feels her heat between his legs and hardens in an instant, hips rocking for friction and Erika gives him a knowing smirk from above.

“I bet Mariko would have been on top, too,” she says with a hint of amusement, returning to Kame’s mouth before he can respond. Her fingers are pushing up his shirt but it’s not rushed, her touch gradually sliding up his sides and continuing up his arms as he lifts them helpfully and pulls away from her long enough for the garment to be removed. He repeats the action on her, narrowing avoiding tangling the fabric in her hair while thumbing the hem of her bra.

It’s Erika who reaches back to unhook it, the lace falling down her arms and Kame’s hand instantly shifts to cup her breast, feeling her nipple harden against his palm. She kisses him harder, grinding down against him with her own hands on his belt, taking her time unfastening it like there’s no hurry at all. Kame opens her pants enough to slip his hand inside, rubbing her through her underwear that’s already damp from her arousal, and he groans at the realization that she’s been this way for awhile. For him.

“Now who’s being a tease?” she says into their kiss, and Kame relocates his hand into her panties to touch her directly. It’s wet and hot and his fingers naturally gravitate to where she wants them, his middle and ring fingers pushing inside her and curling to move in and out. Her moan is encouraging and he does it faster, satisfying his own urge for her to lose control, and he groans in victory as she practically rips his pants open and takes his cock in hand.

“Erika,” he gasps, and she strokes him firmly, pushing back against his fingers as she wheezes through her nose. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” she replies, giggling despite her lack of breath, and snatches the foil packet from Kame as he pulls it out of his wallet. “Always prepared.”

“One of us has to be,” he argues, but then she’s tearing it open and rolling it on him. With her mouth. “ _Fuck_ , Erika.”

She grins as she leans up, straddling his hips, and he pulls his fingers from her just in time for her to sit right on his cock. He bites his lip, involuntarily thrusting up into her as she sinks down onto him, and the noise she makes is beautiful enough for him to do it again. She moves with him, rocking back and forth as he makes her bounce, finding a rhythm that works for them. Kame just watches her ride him, her hair swaying from their efforts and her mouth parting for her moans, which have Kame reaching for her hips and taking control as he feels her start to let go.

A surge of energy tears through him suddenly and he sits up, latching his mouth onto her breasts while pulling Erika further down onto him to take him in deeper. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and her voice grows more shrill, her body tightening in a prelude to orgasm that he helps along with his tongue. He can feel her shudder inside and out, fucking her through it with half a mind to roll them over and pound into her until she regains her composure and rides him harder than before.

Now she’s rushing, moving as fast as she can and Kame’s struggling to keep up, tonguing her nipples while he brings one of his hands around to the front to rub her clit. She screams out his name as the pad of his middle finger moves in circles on the swollen bump, then hooks under it and flicks gently, making her come again. This time she pauses in her actions and Kame can’t wait for her to resume, carefully laying her down on the futon and looping his arms around her legs before taking over and pushing through the tight resistance of her body.

“Kazuya,” she says softly, her tone in complete contrast to their efforts. “You’re so hot right now.”

He kisses her in response, fusing their mouths together and muffling his groans as he starts to lose it. Her nails are in his back, taking him higher, and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s jerking, holding her tight as he finally gets release. Their kissing becomes slower as he comes down, pulling out and smoothing her legs down into a more comfortable position, and together they tingle with aftershocks until Kame rolls onto his back and snaps off the condom.

There’s a trash can conveniently next to the futon, so he doesn’t have to go very far and returns to pull Erika in his arms before she even notices he’s gone. “I have to get up early tomorrow,” he tells her apologetically. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“But it’s Saturday,” she protests.

“You know our jobs don’t allow for proper weekends,” he replies. “My first appointment is at eight, then I’m booked straight through until five. Then I have to go home and clean, since I couldn’t tonight.”

Erika’s body rumbles with laughter. “So predictable.”

“When you’re done with your friends, maybe you can come over,” he says into her hair. “How predictable is that?”

“It’s still an entire day in advance,” she says, “but it’s an improvement.”

She makes no effort to reach for her clothes, and Kame realizes they have this in common, too.

*

“Don’t you have your own home?” Kame sighs as he finds Uchi on his couch yet again. “I know I’m not a better cook than your mother.”

“I don’t live with my mother anymore,” Uchi says sadly, and Kame just retreats to his room to change. “You know, for someone who got laid last night, you’re way too crabby.”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he replies, shoving Uchi off of the couch so he can fix the cover. Again. “And you’re not staying here tonight, because there’s a chance she might be dropping by.”

“Be careful, Kazupon,” Uchi says seriously. “You don’t need rumors to get started.”

Kame scoffs. “This would be my best one to date. She’s actually my age and, you know, a real female.”

“Congratulations,” Uchi mocks, and Kame throws a couch pillow at him. “But seriously, I’m glad it’s working out with you two. Even if you’re meaner to me.”

“I’m always mean to you,” Kame points out, “because you’re always  _here_.”

Uchi pouts. “It’s just because I like you.”

“Whatever.”

Quietly Uchi watches Kame clean his apartment from top to bottom, rolling back onto the couch when it’s time to vacuum, and the next time Kame looks at him, he’s fallen asleep. Kame can’t help but smile at the sight, feeling generous enough to boil up some pasta for them both. Uchi wakes up when it’s almost done, sleepily stumbling into the kitchen and draping himself on Kame’s shoulders as he finishes cooking.

“What’s this for?” Uchi mumbles.

“Thanks,” is all Kame says, and Uchi hugs him tighter.


End file.
